


Dittany

by In_Dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Herbology, Hogwarts Professors, Innuendo, M/M, Pining, Potions, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29591256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams
Summary: Theo Nott, Potions Master of Hogwarts, has a shortage of Dittany. The only place he can find more is the Hogwarts greenhouses, and his colleague Professor Longbottom.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Theodore Nott
Comments: 17
Kudos: 74
Collections: Love Fest 2021, Rare Pairs RHM Read for LoveFest





	Dittany

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FaeOrabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel/gifts), [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/gifts).



> _Author's Note:_ Hello! This little piece of one of my favourite minor pairings was written for Fairest of the Rare's Love Fest 2021.   
> #LF2021 #TeamVenus
> 
> This was thrown together in under an hour and has been neither alpha- or beta-read; mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!

Blowing out a carefully measured breath, Theodore Nott straightened the Windsor at his throat. Rolled his shirtsleeves to the crooks of his elbows, a practiced surety to the motion that obscured the nerves coursing through his veins. 

Adjusted the square frames perched on the bridge of his nose. 

With a grimace, he caught his partial reflection in the exterior glass of Greenhouse Seven before he released the wards on the door and walked in. It was a cool summer day by the usual standards, but the temperature inside the greenhouse spiked by several degrees. Almost instantly, Theo grew warm and he cursed the slight prickle of perspiration forming along his hairline. 

He was gratified that the students of Hogwarts were home for the summer hols, and many of the professors were away from the castle as well on assorted trips and sabbaticals. 

Still, several others besides Theo remained. 

The sole occupant of Greenhouse Seven glanced up as Theo approached, his dragonhide oxfords clicking on the stone tiles. 

"Longbottom," Theo drawled, cocking a brow as he took in his colleague's less than immaculate appearance. He wore a simple white t-shirt and denim trousers, the corded muscle of his tanned forearms covered in dirt to the elbows. 

On the work bench before him sat a variety of cuttings that Theo couldn't place in varying stages of potted.

"Professor Nott." The man's mouth twitched with a hint of amusement as he brushed his palms together―as though the action did _anything_ to remove the dust and soil that often existed as a semi-sentient extension of his being. "What can I do for you?" 

The list was endless and lewd, but the company too polite for Theo to voice such things out loud. 

Still, he felt a warmth gird beneath his skin that had nothing to do with the contained heat. 

"I find myself with an issue," Theo began, idly reaching for one of the already potted stems; Longbottom caught his wrist, eyes flashing, and the simple, innocent touch caused his adrenaline to flare. 

"They aren't friendly," Longbottom simply said. 

With a thin grimace, Theo retracted his hand when the other man's grip loosened. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "At any rate: perhaps you've already heard of the shortage of passable Dittany on the continent. My last three shipments have been abysmal at best, and I cannot use any of it. It's resulted in a shortage of healing potions in the hospital wing, and as Madam Pomfrey has reminded me more than once"―his lip curled with mocked indignation―"this is unacceptable. Particularly with the students returning in under a month." 

Folding his arms across his broadened chest― _Merlin, he was cruel_ ―Longbottom eyed Theo for a moment. "I have heard of it." Amusement danced in the man's green eyes, and Theo drew in a careful breath. "And it just so happens I have a crop of Dittany that's ready for harvesting. I wondered if you might come inquiring." 

Despite himself, Theo's perusal flitted to the emphasis of Longbottom's biceps before he clicked his tongue and lifted his gaze once more. His voice lowered of its own accord as he asked, "And what would it take to obtain said crop of Dittany?" 

A thrill coiled within him, mingling with the disdain that clawed at the back of his mind as Longbottom's lips curled with a slow, crooked grin. "I don't know, Nott. What are you offering?"

He'd long been unable to rationalise this ill-informed interest in one Neville Longbottom, much as he was helpless to it. The man was the bloody head of Gryffindor house; the very antithesis of Theo, who had never claimed courage in any of its forms.

For two years since Theo had come to work at Hogwarts as the Potions professor, he had eyed Longbottom, allowing the man to grow on him and slip under his skin―but never had he made a move.

Theo fought the urge to scoff even as the words clenched deliciously in his core. The man would likely be alarmed to learn the extent of what Theo would offer him―and not even in exchange for the healing herb. He suppressed the thought. "What do you _want_ for it, Longbottom? Why are you growing it if not for this purpose?" 

"I have my uses for Dittany," Longbottom said idly, slipping a pair of safety glasses onto his face as he returned to his work. Theo watched the careful way he handled one of the cuttings before burying it in an empty pot of soil, the lingering silence oddly companionable. 

They weren't enemies―not anymore. And maybe they never truly had been, despite growing up in different houses and on opposite sides of a not-so-arbitrarily drawn battle line. But Theo didn't dare call them friends, when such a determination left the door open for _more_. 

Theo was nothing if not cautious; pragmatic. 

And by opening himself up to someone like Longbottom, he knew he would be asking for trouble. 

When Longbottom finally looked his way again, pushing the safety glasses up into his disheveled hair, the movement reminded Theo that he hadn't responded. 

"I'll pay you for it, then," he said flippantly. The last thing Theo concerned himself with were the galleons in his vault; he didn't need to work, but the walls of Nott Manor had closed in on him for far too long and eventually he'd sought something else to pass the time. "Generously." 

With a good-natured chuckle, Longbottom shook his head. "I don't want your money, Nott. And anyway, I'm only teasing. You can have the Dittany. I planted it when I first heard of the shortage on the continent because I suspected the issue might reach us here." 

A breath hitched in Theo's throat at the thought of the man _teasing_ him. "Alright." 

Casting a stasis on the remaining cuttings splayed on the bench―Theo noticed a couple of them twitch when he looked closer, before they fell still―Longbottom led him down the aisle and across the greenhouse. Theo blatantly eyed the curve of his arse in his jeans, his own trousers growing a little uncomfortable.

And with cautious, reverent hands, Longbottom quietly set about harvesting the delicate and powerful herb. Theo leaned a hip against the wall, folding his arms as he watched. He enjoyed potioneering―he always had, to a certain extent―but Longbottom's adoration for his subject was unrivaled. 

Idly, Theo wondered whether his dedication for plants bled over into other facets of his life. 

At last, he handed Theo an airtight container filled with sprigs of the herb. When Theo reached for it, their fingers grazed. His mouth went dry at the innocuous touch, throat bobbing as he forced a swallow. 

Longbottom's stare locked on his. 

"Thanks," Theo choked, and after another moment longer, Longbottom relinquished his hold on the herbs.

"Not a problem." 

The raging cadence of Theo's heart told him that _yes this was a problem_ , very much so a problem. 

"Maybe," he said, the word drifting free from his lips of its own accord, hanging tense between them. "I could buy you a drink sometime. As thanks." 

In the silence that followed―and Theo could have sworn the man could hear the clamour of his pulse―Longbottom ducked his chin. "A drink." 

"Right." 

They stood close enough that Theo could feel the body heat emanating from the man, and he knew he ought to step away. To thank Longbottom for the herbs and be on his way, before he could say or do anything ridiculous that he wouldn't be able to reclaim. 

"What sort of a drink?" The man's voice loped with idle curiosity; his eyes spoke something entirely different. 

Theo's core tightened. "Whatever sort of drink you prefer." 

"Mmm," Longbottom hummed quietly, his voice low as it stirred up every part of Theo that he had suppressed for two years. "I prefer the kind where we end up in my bed afterward." His tongue dipped out, another of those goofy, lopsided grins taking over his face and belying the invitation in his words. "If you're up for that, of course." 

_Bloody Gryffindors_. 

Theo released a tight breath through his nose, lips parting with his next inhale. The words fell from his lips on a breath. "That sounds amenable, yes." 

One of Longbottom's hands skimmed Theo's hip, and he couldn't tell whether it was intentional, but heat raced through him. "Good." His face shifted into a smile more banal that he had any right to express, after turning Theo's world on its axis with such a straightforward proposition. "Let me know the details and I'll be happy to join you for that drink." 

Theo could only gape at him. 

Longbottom clapped him on the shoulder. "Enjoy your herbs, Nott."


End file.
